


On a Hill

by giraffewrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Other, Post Hogwarts, Trans Draco Malfoy, Trans Ginny Weasley, draco around twenty one or so, ginny’s around twenty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25108018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffewrites/pseuds/giraffewrites
Summary: Ginny never thought she’d cast a smile to Draco Malfoy, let alone be his friend. But it turns out they have more in common that they would once care to admit.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Ginny Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83
Collections: Oliver’s birthday zine





	On a Hill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oliver__Niko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/gifts).



> Trans women are women. Draco is a trans man, Ginny is a trans woman. Thank you.
> 
> One of my pieces from a zine a handful of us put together for Ollie’s birthday!

In the shade of a large tree, Ginny sits at the picnic table. From here, on top of the hill, she can see the majority of the park. This, along with how the picnic table offers a side of shade _and_ sun, makes it her favourite part of the entire park. It’s been twenty minutes since she arrived, but that’s all right, she’s always the first one here.

If this were a weekend, there would be plenty more people about. The sun always coaxes people out, especially to a park with so much to do. But today, a mundane weekday, she’s hardly seen anyone besides the mums and toddlers in the play area.

Not on purpose, but rather on brand, Ginny’s stuff is scattered across the table. Her sketchbook and art supplies are closest to her, and a container half full of sausage sandwiches is in arms reach. She’s about to start a new piece when, finally, she spots what she’s been waiting for. Platinum blond hair bobbing up the hill. Ginny smiles, leaning into her elbows, “You’re late. I didn’t think you were gonna show.”

Draco doesn’t answer, out of breath as he nears the picnic table.His forehead is damp with sweat, and Ginny isn’t surprised given the thickness of his jumper.

“Forget to check the weather?” She teases, and pulls out a cold bottle of water for him. “What’s with the sweater?”

“Some of us have a fashion sense,” Draco says breathily, unscrewing the cap. “And I, for one, rather suffer than wear dungarees in public.”

“These are my favourite dungarees! I especially like this part,” she taps the embroidery on the front pocket; a yellow bear with a red crop top sits next to a small piglet, “although I’ll have to ask Harry what they’re called again.”

Finally sitting down, Draco pops his bag off and let’s it rest next to him. Immediately, he takes one of the sandwiches.

 _Oh_ , Ginny thinks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, _if only mum knew who was eating her sandwiches._

Draco demolishes the sandwich. And another one. Then, he almost drinks the entirety of the water in one gulp. “What?” He asks, catching the way she’s looking at him. “Can I not be hungry?”

Ginny puts her hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”

Draco lets it drop, and opens his bag. Ginny watches him dig through it before finding what he wants, and throwing it at her.

She lets out a small squeal, now holding a large plastic bag in her hands. She gives Draco a confused look.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Open it,” he insists, folding his arms, shrinking into himself just enough for Ginny to notice.

Ginny doesn’t have to be told twice. She rips open the handles - that were tied together - with only slight difficulty, to reveal a sparkly green material. After shooting Draco yet another confused look, she pulls it out of the bag. Her jaw drops.

It’s not some green material, but instead, a dress. The exact kind she used to fantasize about wearing when she was a kid, hoping one day she could wear it to the Yule Ball, should she have the chance. It’s sleeveless, and the rays of sun seeping through the mass of leaves in the tree above make it glimmer when she moves it.

“There’s more in there,” Draco says, causing Ginny to come back to earth. “I’ll admit some of it is dated, but you can charm them to fit. Besides, they still beat those horrid overalls.”

There’s nothing in the bag that Ginny doesn’t love. From sweaters to more dresses and skirts with fancy frills, the bag never seems to stop giving her items to pull out.

“Draco, I…”

“No need to get emotional, Weasley,” he says, yet there’s a ghost of a smile on his face. “It’s hardly the family gold. Just stuff I don’t need that we found in the attic… Mum wanted to give it to charity, and I figured giving it to you was killing two birds with one stone.”

Not so long ago, Ginny would be standing up to threaten Draco with her wand. Now she’s standing up to throw her arms around him. Her freckled cheek pushes into his hair, and she feels his hands rest on her arm. “Thank you.”

Glad that she can’t see his red cheeks, Draco pats her arm. “Don’t make a show of it. It’s nothing special.”

“It is,” Ginny insists, squeezing him before sitting back down. “And you know it.”

“Well, there’s no need to fuss,” Draco insists. “It’s all better off with you than it is me.”

After putting the clothes back in the plastic bag, she goes to put them in her rucksack only to spot her camera. Unlike regular cameras, this one produces still photos. Harry gave it to her years ago for her sixteenth birthday, likely sick of having to hear her complain about how hard it was to use a photo for an art reference when the photo subjects won’t stop moving. She takes it out.

“Ginny do not-”

Too late. Ginny takes a photo of Draco, grinning at his squeezed-together eyes and tight lip. “Gotcha!”

“My eyes!” He groans, rubbing them. “What have I told you about that thing? The light is lethal!”

Ginny laughs. “Always so dramatic,” she tsks, putting the photo next to her leg to let it develop.

“Says the one who screamed when a bee got in her hair.”

“You were screaming too!”

“Details details.” Draco flutters his hand. “Anyway, have you been painting again?”

“I have.” Ginny pushes her sketchbook towards Draco, watching as he starts looking through. “I think it’s my new favourite medium.”

This sketchbook is her oldest. She started it when she was nine, when she first knew she was transgender. By the time she was ten it was full of personal illustrations, the majority expressing herself and her feelings. When Bill found it, she was scared he was going to question her about the content, only for him to tell her that he’d charmed it so it had infinite pages but stayed lightweight. He’d also asked if she wanted him to call her by the name she signed her photos with.

“Is that Potter?”

With the wind picking up, Ginny wraps her cardigan across her front, fists covered by sleeves and leans over the table. “You can stop calling people by their last names, you know. But yes, that’s him.”

The painting is referenced from the photo sellotaped in the upper right hand corner of the page. It was the last time she’d seen Harry; a brunch her and Hermione had set up just a couple of weeks back. In the photo and painting alike, Harry’s wearing a t-shirt and black jacket. He looks pretty much the same as he did in school, save the stubble and fluffier hair.

“I can tell him you say hi,” she teases, getting just what she wanted.

Draco’s gone bright red. “D-don’t be so stupid,” he stutters, pushing the sketchbook back to Ginny. “What an idiotic idea.”

“Whatever you say. If you change your mind…” She trails off, putting the sketchbook in her bag.

They don’t stay long after that. Both of them are heading to their family homes; Draco for his fortnightly visits to his mother, and Ginny to her monthly family dinners. This week is at Ron’s, and she hopes it’s him who’s cooking, and not Hermione. As they walk to the gate, Ginny can’t help but smile in amusement of what Ron would do if she took Draco to dinner as a guest. (“Ginny!” She can hear him shouting, “I’d rather you’d brought a giant spider than him!”)

“What’re you smiling for?”

“What? Can I not be happy?” She says mockingly, laughing when he elbows her in the arm.

Just before they reach the gates, she says, “I think I might paint you, is that okay?”

“I suppose I can give you that honour,” Draco replies, turning to look at her.

Ginny rolls her eyes. “Be nice to me or I’ll use piss-yellow for your hair.”

Draco narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

When they reach the gate, Ginny doesn’t let Draco go without a hug.

“A painting, a hug, what next do you want? My autograph?”

Ginny stands back to punch him in the arm, laughing as he winces in pain. “There, some humble pie,” she says, wrapping her fingers around the straps of her bag, one foot stepping back. “I’ve got more if you want it.”

“I think I’ll decline.” Draco rubs the area she hit and steps onto the pavement.

“I can send some with the next letter Pig sends!” Ginny offers, now walking on the pavement on the other side of the road.

“Bye Wealsey,” Draco says dismissively, holding a hand out before turning down an alley.

“You don’t know what you're missing out on!” Ginny shouts, hands cupped around her mouth.

Soon enough, she’s cutting down an alley of her own, knowing the hissyfit her mum would throw if she knew she took it. Along with it comes the thought of Ron being outraged at the sight of Draco again, and Ginny laughs. Never did she think Draco Malfoy would be an important part of her life. But she’s glad he did.


End file.
